Hey, I wrote this for my creative writing course. There's a pretty big emphasis on revision so I was hoping to get some feedback from you gents. Thanks.
- Spoiler:
They say not to judge a book by its cover. Well, I’ve never been one for listening to “them” whoever the hell “they”
are. I remember one time I was driving down the highway. Back then I drove this monster of a car, a real gas guzzler, helluva
car that was. As I’m about to get on my exit, I see some poor schmuck sitting on the side of the road with his hands in his
face. His car’s parked next to him shooting smoke out of its engine. Now, normally I would just cruise by without a second
thought. But back then, I was dating this girl, real nice girl, who was all about loving your neighbor as yourself and all
that crap. I figure that proving that I love my neighbor is the quickest way into her pants so I pull over and offer to give
him a lift to the nearest payphone (yeah this was back when there were payphones). We get to the phone, and I swear, the car
had barely stopped before the guy jumps out, rings up a tow truck, and gives some sob story about how his carburetor
malfunctioned. Now I’m no tow jockey, but the last thing I want to hear at 4 A.M. is some loser’s story about how it’s the
carburetor’s fault that his ride is fucked. Anyway, once the performance is over I wait with the guy for a while. This is the
weird part, too. It must’ve been half an hour we waited there and I swear to God he didn’t say a single word to me. Just sat
there, looking at his feet, mumbling about his goddamn carburetor. I mean, I get that he probably had a lot on his mind,
seeing his car was busted and all, but Christ, at least try to start up some small talk or something. But no, he just sits
there staring at his loafers saying how unfair the world is. So anyway, after what seems like hours, the trucker finally gets
off his ass, and pulls up to the payphone with his tow truck. As soon as he got close, the guy I picked up bolts towards the
truck, like I have the goddamn plague or something. Never even said thank you.
So the next day, I’m sitting my house, drinking a beer, when suddenly, the doorbell rings. Naturally, I stepped over
to the door and checked the peephole. It was a cop. I never liked cops. Once when I was a kid, an officer came in to my school
and gave this whole seminar about how policemen were our friends or some shit. I raised my hand and asked him why they took my
dad away if they were here to protect us. My teacher, who never liked me to begin with, rushed me out into the hall and gave
me some long ass speech about how there’s a time and a place for everything. I looked her in the eyes and muttered “Uh huh”
every now and again just to make it seem like I was listening. Anyway, I open the door and ask the cop if there was a problem.
He gives me this mean stare and tells me I’m under arrest as an accomplice to an enemy of the state. I asked him what the fuck
an enemy of the state is. Bastard thought I was getting smart and cuffed me. After a long-ass ride to the precinct, they shove
me in some empty room with a table and two chairs and tell me to sit down. I told them they could shove that chair up their
asses. They didn’t like that. They throw me on the ground and start whaling on me. By this point I know I’m in deep shit,
because normally cops are pretty hesitant to do that sort of thing. After they’ve had their fill, they sit me down and shove a
picture in my face of me and the guy I picked up. Apparently, they had been following him, seeing who he talked to because
according to them, he was a Soviet spy. The fact that I had picked him up, they said, made me a communist and a traitor to my
country. Now I’m not usually one to panic, but the thought of rotting in prison for the rest of my life for Khrushchev’s sake
wasn’t something I wanted to think about. I tell them that I had no idea who the guy was, and that I just picked him up out of
charity. After a few more beatings, I’m bleeding all over the floor. Just as soon as I don’t think I can take anymore, another
cop rushes in and tells everyone there that they nailed the spy and that I’m innocent. The cops look over at the bloody pulp
that they made out of me and apologize for their mistake, but assert that beating the shit out of random citizens was somehow
for the good of the country. As soon as they dropped me off at my house, I limped over to my telephone, called up my girlfriend
and told her that we were through.